


The Expense Account

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Biphobia, M/M, Spoilers, bisexual hank, don't worry hank i'd do the same thing, hank curses a lot, hank has a moral dilemma, really really bad decisions while under the influence, spoilers for the eden club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 15:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14876546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: After The Eden Club, Hank gets questioned about the charges to his expense account and outs himself. Gavin makes some outlandish allegations about Hank and Connor's conduct at the club. Hank, drunk and on a self-destructive binge, makes some bad decisions that night involving a sex android, Connor's likeness, and some personal fantasies he's been keeping to himself...





	The Expense Account

**Author's Note:**

> I do want to write more parts to Break The Walls Down, but I wanted to write something a little bitter to even out all that sweetness. I do love some good angst. :D

Hank walked into Fowler's office and let the glass door close with a thud. Something was going on, judging from the whispers and the giggling around the office whenever the other officers caught sight of Connor and him together. He suspected he was about to find out just what.

Fowler pushed a file across the desk and Hank sighed. Connor's report from the Eden Club lay on the desk, along with a long list of 29.99 expenditures. The billing hadn't been as discreet as Hank would have liked, specifying the specific models he'd rented. It didn't take a rocket scientist to look up the model numbers and realize that one of the androids was male.

That was a secret he'd been keeping under his hat for a long time. Being bisexual was a non-issue in just about everywhere but a police station locker room, where the last homophobes of the world seemed to gather for their last stand. He'd let people assume that because he had a son, he was straight. It was none of their fucking business anyway.

"Did you even read the report? Connor needed to rent the fucking androids to probe their memory. It was the only lead we had!" Hank stopped himself before he could say their mission had been successful. In his mind, that was the case, but Connor had let the deviants go and the report was full of lies and half-truths about how they'd gotten away. Hank swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He looked through the glass at Connor, sitting at his desk, seemingly oblivious to the shitstorm his report had created.

"You have to understand how this looks, Hank!" Fowler yelled. "The suspects got away, and you have half a dozen sex plastic rentals listed in your report!"

"What, you think we went to the Eden Club to have an orgy? Don't be fucking absurd. You know how I feel about androids. Besides, do you really think Connor would jeopardize his mission by letting me spend all night in a private room? Check the cameras if you need to." Hank hoped the bluff worked, because if Fowler did pull the footage, he'd see that Connor had let the Tracis flee the scene when he easily could have shot them. He'd gone against his programming—against the mission—and displayed real empathy, something Hank was still wrapping his head around. His hangover still rang in his ears and he knew he'd be leaving early to hit up the bars again after this shitshow of a day.

"I'm not going to issue a formal reprimand, Hank, but just be more careful in future, okay?" Fowler nursed his temples and looked at Hank and Hank realized with one fleeting glimpse at the flicker of disgust etched onto Fowler's face that he knew about Hank's sexuality. Not that he could do a damn thing about it, even if he did have a problem with that. Non-discrimination ordinances had long since made it illegal to discriminate on the basis of sexuality. 

"Fuck you," Hank snapped. Why did he feel he was on trial here? He'd done nothing wrong—nothing of the sort that Fowler was implying, anyway. He slammed the door on the way out and headed to the break room for more coffee. He wasn't sure he could sit at his desk and exchange small talk with Connor right now. The absolute last thing he needed was to be caught staring into Connor's brown eyes for a moment too long.

Of course he'd noticed Connor. Pretty boys had always been his type, and God had seen fit to grant him the hottest, most distracting, most annoying, endearing and angel-faced partner he could ever wish for. If Connor had been human he might have considered pursuing him, at least for a one-night thing, but he wasn't. He was an android, no matter how much he smiled and winked and set Hank on fire at night with the thought of that choir-boy mouth sucking him off. It wasn't going to happen. Ever.

"Hank!" Hank almost bumped into Gavin as he reached the break room, and the curve of his smile told Hank nothing good was going to come out of his mouth. "So I hear you had a good time last night," he said in a low voice, the undercurrent of his threat as sharp as a knife. "I can imagine the scene now—quite the orgy it must have been. Male androids, female androids, all serving you. I never knew that about you, Hank. Was _it_ there, too?" He pointed across the office at Connor, whose eyebrow was raised as he looked at his computer monitor, seemingly oblivious to the conversation happening a hundred feet away. "Is the RK800 model _fully functional?_ "

"FUCK YOU!" Hank picked Gavin up by the front of his t-shirt and slammed him into the wall so hard the television wobbled on its bracket. He could hear the air leave Gavin's lungs with the force of the impact and was instantly aware of the ten or so witnesses who had walked by the break room to see what all the fuss was about. Even the prisoners in lockup were pressed against the glass, trying to see what was going on.

Hank let go. He wasn't going to be rattled by this prick any longer. He needed some air. Letting Gavin slide down the wall, he strode back to his desk, where he grabbed his jacket. "Connor, I'm done for the day. If you need anything, call me—though I can't promise I'll answer or care." He stalked out of the office, leaving Connor sitting at his desk with a quizzical expression written on his face.

***

Hank'd had way too much to drink and this was a bad, bad idea, but it called to him like a siren's song regardless. The neon pink of the Eden Club cut through the darkness, beckoning him to come inside and do exactly what he'd been accused of. He parked his car and hobbled through the corridor of undulating sex androids, trying to forget that the last time he'd been here, he'd been investigating a murder.

He kept his head down and rented a male android, charging it to his personal card, this time. The comely young man led him into a private room and Hank locked the door.

"I have many appearance options," the android explained. "If you tell me your preferences, I can style myself to look exactly as you wish."

One face sprang to mind and he pushed it away immediately. Fuck no. He was not going there, not in a million years. Bad enough he was here with this plastic prick, doing shit he'd never do when he was sober. He could have just picked up one of his regulars at the bar for a quick blowjob, but no, not tonight. Tonight he was living on the edge, feasting on his self-loathing by making terrible decisions he'd regret in the morning.

"You get wiped every two hours, right? So you don't remember me from last night, or the android I was with? The RK800? He probed your memory."

"A memory wipe isn't complete. We don't recall specific events or clients, but a probe is something not easily deleted. I do remember the RK800, and, as a probe goes both ways, I was able to see some of its memories too. Would you like me to create a scenario using the RK800 as my reference?"

No. Fuck no. This was the mother of all bad ideas. He should get the fuck out of here, go home, jerk off between the sheets and get some fucking sleep.

But maybe if he could get this out of his system, he'd be able to stop eyeballing his partner like that. Maybe he could work on having a more professional relationship with Connor without the underlying sexual tension that was driving him insane on a daily basis.

"Yes." Hank's voice was barely a whisper, his assent slightly slurred, but audible all the same.

The android changed his skin, something Hank found incredibly unsettling. He turned away, and when he looked up, Connor was standing in front of him—or as close an analog as this particular android's appearance settings would allow for, anyway.

"What would you like me to call you?" Oh God. It was using Connor's voice. Hank eyeballed the exit. He could go, now—get in the car, drunkenly drive home and pretend none of this had ever happened.

But he didn't want to.

"Hank. Call me Hank. Or Lieutenant Anderson."

"What do you want me to do to you, Hank?" Not-Connor sat on the side of the bed next to him. Hank was still fully clothed, but his jeans were strained where his erection pressed rock-hard against them.

"Touch me. Suck my dick." That's all he would need—at this rate he wasn't going to last. His blood alcohol level might delay proceedings slightly, but not long enough to exceed his thirty minutes.

Not-Connor ran his hand up Hank's leg, fondling his erection through his jeans. Hank moaned, biting his lip. The android went for his belt buckle.

"Wait," Hank commanded. "Kiss me."

The android moved in and captured his lips. For a moment, he could pretend this was his Connor, the robot boy with a pure heart and a killer smile, and a sensation of bliss like he hadn't felt for a long time poured into the cracks of his soul, filling up the arid desert where his heart had dried out long ago. The kiss ended, and Hank swallowed as Not-Connor unbuckled his belt and pulled it clear, throwing it on the ground. He unzipped Hank's jeans and pulled off his boxers, leaving his erection exposed to the air. The android pushed him down on the bed and knelt between his legs.

He thought of the Tracis in the lot. _I wanted to forget about the humans and their dirty words. I wanted to be with the one I love._

"S-stop," Hank muttered. He scrambled back on the bed, almost hitting his head against the headboard. His erection wilted. "Change your appearance, please. Go back to the way you were. I can't fucking do this."

The android shifted back to the young man he'd been in the pod. The man who looked nothing like Connor.

"Have I done something wrong?" The android asked. "If I've displeased you, please allow me to rectify the situation."

"No. You've—You've done nothing wrong." Hank shook his head, trying to find himself through his dazed thoughts and sudden abject terror. What the fuck was he doing? How could he stand in the lot and tell Connor he'd done the right thing letting the Tracis go and then turn around and come here? This life had been torture for them—and he was about to put Connor's face on an android and fuck him?

Hank leaned over the side of the bed and threw up. He could tell himself it was the alcohol all he wanted, but disgust was the main factor. Ironically, Connor would have made the argument that the android sitting in front of him right now was only serving his purpose, but did he truly believe that, or was it just programming? Connor was changing as much as Hank was, it seemed, showing empathy when Hank least expected it.

It seemed like an insult to that humanity to turn around and fuck the likeness of Connor like he was an object, a thing to be used and discarded. That wasn't how he felt about Connor at all. Connor was his partner. His friend. His—there was something between them, some spark he couldn't put a name to. Love? Fucking ridiculous. A human couldn't fall in love with an android. It just wasn't possible.

The kiss had fucked him up bad, and he felt worse than he had when he'd sat in Fowler's office being confronted with the fact that some people still saw his sexuality as something to be ashamed of. Connor had gotten under his skin, and it was all going to end in heartbreak once he discovered Connor was just a soulless piece of plastic he'd been projecting his feelings onto. That was how it had to go, wasn't it? Unless Connor became deviant, and that—that was never going to happen, no matter how much Connor seemed like he wanted to be a real boy.

"I'll issue you a refund," the android said. "I have to charge you for the cleanup, so the cost should even out. I apologize that your visit to Eden Club was not a pleasant one."

"Get outta here," Hank growled. "Please. I need a minute." The android left and Hank stood up, eyeing himself in the mirror. He was a wreck in every conceivable sense of the word. He zipped his jeans back up and staggered to the doorway, eager to get out of the club and go home. A cleaning android wheeled his mop and bucket into the room behind him and in less than two hours, the android (now back in his pod) wouldn't even remember Hank had been here.

He wished he could wipe his own memory of that fact.


End file.
